If The Shoe Fits
by SussiRay
Summary: Emily is a little peeved at something Hotch makes her wear while she is undercover at a nightclub. A oneshot based on the prompt "feet" done for hotchityhotchhotch!


**A/N: This is a oneshot for my lovely **_**hotchityhotchhotch.**_** She gave me the prompt "feet", this is what came from that in combination with TG induced giddiness...**

**Enjoy! **

**I do not own Criminal Minds**

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**If The Shoe Fits**

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, of course not. Why would I be kidding?" Hotch gave her his most serious stare, his thick eyebrows knitted tightly together. "Everything has to be believable, that includes you looking the part."

"But these?" Emily exclaimed. "How am I supposed to do my job in _these_?" She huffed exasperatedly, dangling the sparkly five inch stilettos in front of his set face.

"Emily," Hotch said patiently, "you're going undercover at a nightclub, combat boots and fatigues just wouldn't do." He raised an eyebrow at her, trying to signal that the conversation was over.

"But, what if he runs and I have to go after him?" Emily tried, fully aware that she was grasping at straws.

"We will have agents stationed at every exit, if he tries to make a run for it, we will get him, your job is to lure him out – "

"Be the bait, you mean," she cut him off, leaning forward against his desk and boring her dark eyes into his.

"Yes," Hotch nodded slowly, "if you want to be crass about it then you are the bait, and with good reason too. He is targeting beautiful, brunette women in their late thirties, I can't really send Dave or Morgan in as bait, can I? Maybe Reid though, if we could get him a wig." One corner of his mouth tilted in a slight smile at his own joke, but fell back when he saw the frustrated frown lingering on Emily's face. "You're our only chance, Emily."

"I know that, Hotch," she said, "but do I really have to were these, they're a clear heel away from being stripper shoes."

"You know that feet are what gets this guy off," Hotch said, "We need to make sure that he chooses you."

"Yep, and for that to happen I need to wear five inch heels and a tiny little dress, got it," Emily grumbled, her shoulders slumping in reluctant defeat as she made her way out of Hotch's office to go change her clothes for the night.

* * *

"Who chose Prentiss' outfit?" Rossi asked Hotch, as they stood in one of the dark corners of the nightclub they knew their UnSub frequented, both sets of eye's on Emily sitting on a barstool.

"Garcia," Hotch said, letting his eyes glide over the crowded room and back to Emily.

"So you had nothing to do with it?" Rossi arched a bushy brow.

"I showed her pictures of what the victims had been wearing when they went missing and asked her to get Emily something similar."

Rossi chuckled. "I see," he said, stroking a finger against his chin, "and now you are reaping the benefits of that decision."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I thought we were here to search for the UnSub, but to me it looks like you are looking for the best angle in which to gawk at Prentiss' ass."

"Of course I'm not!" Hotch hissed. "My full attention is on the job."

"Yes," Rossi nodded solemnly, "except for a few seconds every time Prentiss saunters by us, then your attention...drops."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Hotch huffed, scanning the room one more time.

"Oh, please!" Rossi threw out his arms in an exasperation. "You are practically salivating. If you were a cartoon your eyes would be a foot away from your skull." Hotch opened his mouth to protest, but Rossi held up a hand. "Hey! I don't blame you one bit, it is a pretty... how shall I put it... _shapely_ rear end that she has hidden under those slacks she wears. You look as much as you want. I just want the right to make the occasional remark about your obvious staring."

Hotch gave the older man a glare, turning to look at the people occupying the dance floor one more time, when his ear piece crackled and Emily's voice came through.

"Any sign of him yet, boys?"

Hotch turned, carefully raising his wrist to his mouth. "No, if he's here then he's found some place where he's very well hidden. Walk another few laps around the room and make sure that everyone sees you."

"Ah, Hotch, I've been on my feet in these torture devices, that should never have been allowed to be called shoes, for over four hours. I can't feel my toes."

"I'm sorry, Emily," Hotch said, "one more hour, if he hasn't shown up by then, then he probably won't show up at all tonight."

"Alright, one more hour," Emily sighed.

"I owe you one," Hotch told her as he watched her hop off the barstool and take a look around the room. Feeling his cheeks heating up as he watched her tugging at the hem of the tiny red dress Garcia had put her in, he turned back to Rossi. "Am I really that obvious?"

* * *

Hotch sat lazily signing off on various team members accounts for the easy and uneventful take down at the nightclub a few days prior. The UnSub had approached Emily during what was supposed to have been her last walk around the dance floor and Morgan had successfully been able to sneak up behind them and apprehend him.

As he crossed the last t his mind wandered beyond his office to what he was going to do with the little free time he had acquired as Jack was visiting his grandparents. Just as he was internally debating going for a workout versus perhaps catching a movie a knock on the door pulled him back to his office. "Come in," he said. He couldn't help the slight smirk that ghosted across his lips as Emily entered.

"Hey, Hotch," she smiled a wide glittering smile.

"Prentiss." He gave her a quick, but friendly, nod. "How can I help you?"

She sat down in his visitor's chair, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. "Remember how you said that you would owe me one for making me wear those awful shoes?"

"Yes," he said a little warily.

"Well, I've come to take you up on that," she said, pulling out something from a bag he hadn't noticed she was carrying, the tight red tee shirt clinging to her torso had obviously distracted him. "Here," she said, tossing it to him, "you made me wear those shoes and that tiny dress, I want you to wear these."

Pulling at the shiny stretch fabric that had landed in front of him, he raised a slightly confused eyebrow at her. "What is it?"

Emily smiled, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Bike shorts."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review if you have the time.**

**x Sussi**


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